


Of All The Men In All The World (It Had To Be You I Loved)

by ThyErasmusBeDelivered (D20Owlbear)



Series: Warlock TV, Novelizations and Fics [4]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Slow Show - mia_ugly
Genre: And make a lot of excuses, Bloody Kisses, Canon-Typical Violence, Compilation, Forehead Kisses, M/M, Morning Kisses, No one knows how to ride a horse, Novelization, Pine scent left over from seasons 1-4, Rated T for Canon typical Trauma, Relieved Kisses, Sleepy Kisses, Terrified Kisses, Thank someone Julia knows what's happening, They're both pretty oblivious, all types of kisses, s5:e1-8
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:14:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21824233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/D20Owlbear/pseuds/ThyErasmusBeDelivered
Summary: A novelization of all the kisses we see in Season 5 of Warlock between Erasmus and William of Neath. Artistic liberties, of course, taken with inner thoughts and some descriptions.
Relationships: Erasmus/William (Warlock - Slow Show)
Series: Warlock TV, Novelizations and Fics [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1712140
Comments: 67
Kudos: 76
Collections: Slow Show Metaverse, Warlock fic





	1. Episode 1: Triathlon

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lurlur](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lurlur/gifts).

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first kiss of Season 5 is one of relief.

_Uriel is a goddamned patron of the arts_ , Crowley thinks ferociously, pleased all the way down to those jagged parts in him that soften whenever he’s around Avery, every time he reads the incoming scripts for season five of _Warlock_ . He’s started up a relationship with Avery outside of the show and they’re all aware, but now he gets to kiss Avery on camera too. The thought of the dual tracks, the reward for his character and Avery’s in _Warlock_ and all they’ve been through, as well as Crowley getting to kiss Avery right on his perfect mouth and being _paid_ to do it? A miracle, of the best kind. 

He answers the phone as it starts ringing, Avery’s name popping up on the Caller ID, without another thought, not bothering to wait for a greeting he blurts, “Have you read the scripts?!”

Avery laughs at that and it lifts Crowley’s spirits in a way he didn’t know could still be done, “Yes! I was just about to ask you that. How do you like them?”

“How do I– How do I like them, Az?” Crowley blustered with a wide grin pulling at his lips and hurting his cheeks already, “I bloody love ‘em!” Avery laughs again at Crowley’s enthusiasm and his heart swoops like it rode through a loop on a roller coaster, and he can’t remember ever being happier.

* * *

**Relieved Kiss**

He’s running through the forest, carrying a lumpy blanket filled with hay and stones, the size and weight of a child. Joshua is five, thank whatever god is listening, even if it’s William’s, and so he’s learned to keep quiet and can walk on his own hidden under Julia’s skirts. Erasmus is running, though, weighed down by stones and sped up by terror at the sounds of the hunting dogs barking at his heels. He won’t make it, he’s so close but he won’t make it. 

The dogs bark louder and the horses further back scream when the men riding them in their heavy, shining Inquisition armor pull them up short and whirl them around by the reins to find another path. Erasmus is an old hat at outrunning men on horseback carrying swords and shields and sometimes bows. He’s a bit newer at outrunning dogs, by which he means he’s never done it before and he doesn’t think he’ll pull it off. The safehouse with a bolt hole in the floor isn’t far away, it looks abandoned and dilapidated and Erasmus preferred it that way. 

He grimaces when he hears a dog bark, even closer than before and he changes course at the last second. He won’t make it to the safe house, not without losing the dogs, and he curses under his breath at forgetting about the fact that they’re _meant_ to be able to suss out criminals like him, even if he goes to ground. So he veers off to the right where he knows there’s a fast running river, it’ll be cold and miserable, but if it gets these assholes off their trail it’ll be worth it. 

But fuck, he’s too far North, the hard-right he took means he’ll make it to the river at the peak of the cliff, it’s not a large one but there are some rocks in the river at that point that are hard to avoid. Erasmus has never been so happy to be on his own, the priest– William - would have never made the jump, would have never kept up running this long. Julia wouldn’t have been able to either, and that’s fine, that’s what they have him for. 

Erasmus is well aware of what he brought to the table. He’s no witch who can do things with her magic and spells, he’s no priest who has a soft face that can charm anyone into trusting them, he's no boy with too much of the world riding on his shoulders, but he _is_ a conman and he can be a distraction. He’s got his fists and his wits and sometimes that’s not enough, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t _try_. For the boy who’d adopted him and loved Erasmus first, who hadn’t done anything wrong but be born. 

The sharp turn and a couple of quick steps through familiar thorns and brush got him a few, precious extra seconds to situate himself on the edge of the cliff above rushing waters, and the horses and dogs and men have all somehow caught up to him at once. The men swing their swords and throw demands at him like the dogs at their feet won’t rip him to shreds either way, and he forces tears to his eyes like the consummate conman he is, holding the bundle of straw and rocks wrapped in a blanket big enough to hold a five-year-old. Erasmus hides his smirk as he slowly backs up towards the cliff, the men barely realize what he’s going to do. 

“Over my dead body.” Erasmus sneers, pulling the blanket impossibly tighter against his chest and throws himself over the cliff into the water feet-first. He’s done these sorts of jumps before, dives even where necessary, and he’s learned over the years how to jump without breaking himself. Hard-won lessons filled with broken bones and a permanent pain in his hips. 

Once he’s close to the water he throws the rocks and straw to break the surface tension and adjusts himself so he’s little more than a flat needle shape; his arms up and palms together and his knees locked and toes pointed. He falls into the water and all sound suddenly cuts off, Erasmus could sigh if he didn’t have to hold his breath. He always forgot just how peaceful water felt. 

He righted himself, grabbed the blanket so he could return it to Joshua, and swam for as long as he could downriver until his joints locked up and his muscles trembled. Luckily he made it close to their meet-up point.

“Erasmus?” A whimpering whisper grate over his skin as he pulled himself up onto the muddy bank of the river that felt like ice, sopping wet and shivering. His head jerked up and he met William’s gaze with his own, slipping back down the bank with a colorful curse. William bundled down, uncaring of the mud dirtying his cassock, and hoisted Erasmus up out of the river with both hands and a mighty heave.

“Strong grip you have, priest,” Erasmus breathes, teeth chattering, in an attempt to regain any sort of suave he has left to his name. 

“Oh, you– you fool! It’s much too cold to be in the water!” William scolds him, hands hot and warm and _burning_ on Erasmus’ icy skin. 

“Well _excuse me_ , your holiness–” Erasmus starts to work himself up to a sneer, though with his thin frame shaking like a leaf it doesn’t look all that intimidating. And anyway, William has known him for five years, give or take, and is rarely frightened of him anymore anyway, if at all.

Erasmus is cut off with a sharp, blistering, hot pain on his lips, frozen and blue. He can’t help the soft moan that escapes his throat as William’s kiss seems to breathe new life into him, filling his body with the warmth that had been stolen by the water before suddenly breaking away. 

“I am– I am so sorry, Erasmus. I hadn’t meant to– I mean, I was so worried that you’d be gone and I would never, _we_ would never see you again!” The priest exclaims, stuttering. Erasmus just blinks in response, his blood and brain too slow to realize what exactly had just happened, that this was their first kiss in real life. It had to be reality, it hurt too much to be touched by such blazing warmth for it to be a dream. 

“What, no, William, it’s fine. It’s fine. I’m glad you’re safe too.” He murmurs dazedly, still blinking slowly. 

“We got a fire, though?” A sudden shiver wracks his body and he groans pitifully. William gasps and gathers him up with an arm around Erasmus’ back and a hand massaging blood back into the hand not holding onto the sodden, blue blanket.

“I’m so sorry, Erasmus. Yes, of course, we have a fire. Come, let’s get you warmed up.”

William’s face is pained as he guides the soaked and shivering Erasmus back towards the camp he and Julia had made. He thinks to himself that it might be better this way, that Erasmus is too tired and worn from his ordeal today to think much of his impulsive kiss.


	2. Episode 2: Forest Nox

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are two kisses in the Forest Nox episode! 
> 
> The second and third kisses of Season 5 are a terrified kiss and a kiss for luck. I hope you enjoy them both.

“Are you ready?” Anthony Crowley grins, pressed up against Avery while they wait for the cameras to start rolling. Anathema, off stage, rolls her eyes at the two. They’re a cute couple and it’s hard not to tell that they’re dreadfully in love. It shows in their acting too, now that it’s allowed to.

“Always, my dear.” Avery smiles back before taking a deep breath and schooling his face into a soft blankness, ready to begin the scene as soon as the cameras are rolling.

Anthony tamps down on his own smile and slides into character, adjusting their bodies to fit deeper into the plaster crevice behind a man-made creek waterfall.  _ Bless Uriel _ , he thinks to himself yet again as he catches the eye of Avery and has to work to keep the soppy grin off his face.  _ Bless her and her soft, gay heart for all this closeness.  _

“Roll Cameras.”

“Rolling.”

“And action!”

* * *

#####  A Terrified Kiss

William grips tightly at Erasmus, his hands are going numb but he doesn’t say anything. What was there  _ to _ say? I’m sorry? It’ll be alright? He is sorry, but he is also pretty sure William knows that already, what with that dour look on his face. And it wouldn’t be alright, they both know it. It would take nothing short of William’s God’s divine intervention to save them and Erasmus knows better than to count on gods he doesn’t believe in.

Erasmus has a hand over William’s mouth, tight and white-knuckled, but he knows how to keep his own sounds quiet and muffled, better than William does anyway. Erasmus grew up knowing how to keep himself quiet against all odds, and he’s glad, in a way, William didn’t. Even if it would have been useful at the moment. Willam’s hands are fists, tight in Erasmus’ tunic, holding him flush against his chest and taking up as little space as possible. They’ve shoved themselves into a tiny alcove in a cave behind a waterfall. It’s a weak, small little thing that barely hides them from view even in the dark of night with how bright the moon is. Usually, they would love nights like this, it let them sleep without a fire when it is warmer out, or keep walking until they couldn’t any longer, putting ever more distance between them and whoever was on their trail. Because there’s always someone on their trail.

Footsteps pass them by and Erasmus lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his hand falling from William’s face. Neither of them move away or separate and, when William shifts, dropping his own hands from Erasmus, they make eye contact. Suddenly the space feels too small, too cramped, and they’re both aware of where their bodies touch in ways they couldn’t afford earlier when they had to remain hidden.

“Do you think–” William whispers, a tremble in his voice barely heard above the soft din of the small waterfall.

“Shh!” Erasmus hisses, placing a finger to William’s lips to cut him off, reaching into his bag to pull out the serpent pendant Julia had given him. So he could see in the dark, like a nocturnal snake, so that he could scout ahead safely and pick out colors he might otherwise miss. It had saved their arses more than once by this point, being able to pick out the red of spilt blood or Inquisition tabards and cassocks so they could skirt around those sorts of encampments before it was too late.

His eyes turn a molten-gold yellow with black slits as the magic imbued into the pendant takes effect. They hadn’t realized it would cause a physical change until William noticed it the first time Erasmus came back to camp after scouting with it active. It had been an interesting welcome, considering the priest had been convinced Erasmus was possessed. He’d been penitent later, of course, once it was all cleared up, but it had been a harrowing experience all around. But now, it was an old trick to pull out of their bag, a quick and easy way to dodge those who would harm them with such extreme prejudice. 

William stiffens and turns remarkably still under Erasmus’ finger as he took the opportunity to look around. Good, no one he could see, not through the waterfall at least. He sighs again and lets his hand drop.

“Sorry, priest,” Erasmus smiles, trying to force some joviality into his voice even as he speaks in a whisper. No reason to get ahead of themselves, now when a whisper might still save their lives.

“No need. To be sorry, that is.” William murmurs, and Erasmus can feel his eyes dragging up his front and resting on his face. He turns his head, just barely, and catches William’s eyes with his own. Again. If he felt too tightly wound before, now it’s worse. And the thought takes root in his mind that perhaps it’s not worse at all, feeling where William is pressed up against him, soft curves that have slowly hardened with starvation and muscle. But there’s something about William, about how he’s kept that softness about him–in his eyes and in his body and in the kind touch of his hand–that draws Erasmus in, like a swirling cenote dragging him under and drowning him in these emotions neither of them dares name aloud. As if speaking them, bringing them into the harsh reality of their lives, might sully it. Or worse, make it somehow untrue.

William’s hands creep back up Erasmus’ chest and he stops breathing, his heart beating ever faster. His own hands reach up to cup William’s face gently, darting over every curve of it, gently stroking round cheekbones with his thumbs. It’s a tender moment, somehow, even like this, huddled together moments away from grave danger. Even with him, a conman with fake names and (at the moment) demonic eyes. 

But William looks at him like he’s something new. Not in the way novelties are new, but in the way spring flowers are new and rivers filled with mountain snow waters are new. Expected, and beloved, and new all the same because it’s something to be experienced by the whole of him every time it comes around, just a little different and more wonderful than before.

So really, is it any wonder that Erasmus cannot help himself? He leans down, behind the small waterfall barely hiding them, their shoulders pressed into wet, cold stone of a cave, coated in a thin layer of freezing water, and presses his lips to William’s. He’s not cold anymore, and he feels like he’s come home, somehow.

* * *

#####  A Kiss for Luck

William and Erasmus make it back to Julia and Joshua, relieved they were able to hide just as well. Neither of them had spoken about the very real possibility that splitting up hadn’t worked well enough to obfuscate where Joshua was. And if Julia had been caught, well, sometimes it felt like she was the only thing holding the lot of them together. Not because of personality differences, like it had been in the early days, but because she somehow always seemed to know what to do. Privately, William thought it vastly unfair they put so much burden on Julia’s shoulders. But she was the one who knew those prophecies, who knew how magic worked and interacted with the world, who knew what sorts of spells were even available to them when Erasmus’ mundane means wouldn’t work.

Secretly, William also thought Erasmus had too much on his shoulders as well, and that he himself had an awfully light yoke to bear. 

It’s a  _ don’t you dare die on me _ kiss and a  _ come back to me  _ kiss. William trembles in it at the weight of Erasmus’ emotions poured into it. And he revels in it, in the taking of the burden for once. He pulls away with a soft gasp and looks Erasmus in the eyes, his own swirling emotions mirrored in them.

“Good luck, priest.” Erasmus breathes, the closest thing to a prayer William has ever heard pass the man’s lips, but not to God. Instead, this is a prayer to William, and he’s reminded viscerally of their exchange not too long ago, except this time it’s reversed. 

Erasmus has no faith to lose, except for what faith he has in William. The thought bolsters him, like he might deserve that faith from Erasmus, and places him on that knife’s edge of pride and stupidity. At this point, that faith Erasmus has in him is worth more than all the gold in the world or all the good food or even all the recognition he’d previously hoped for from the Church.

It might be sacrilegious to say, but Erasmus makes him feel competent and daring. And perhaps he was a prayer answered, the one he wouldn’t dare voice except in the deepest depths of himself. Perhaps it was the ineffability of God that kept Erasmus by his side. 

Either way, how could he have ever denied the man anything? Least of all a kiss for luck.


	3. Episode 3: Be Neath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fourth and fifth kisses of Season 5 are a hate kiss and a drunken kiss. 
> 
> They hurt me and they hurt to write, but as we all know, it ends on a sweet, hopeful note. I hope I portrayed it well.

“Are you going to be alright?” Avery looks over in askance, face open and just a hit of worry crept into his eyes.

Anthony sighs and nods. He runs a hand through his hair, causing a nearby makeup artist to tut and mess it up again, but artfully. He was meant to be roughed up a bit in this episode. “Yeah, I’ll be fine, ‘s just–” He sighs again. 

“Just?” Avery prompts, leaning forward a little. Active listening, a great tool in any relationship, especially when it was difficult to say the important things.

“Just remind me after you still like me, yeah?”

“Of course, my dear. Of course.” Avery slips his hand into Anthony’s and presses a kiss delicate enough to be the brush of a butterfly’s wing to the redhead’s cheek. 

#####  **Hate Kiss**

“William!” Erasmus calls, following after the denounced priest, a desperate look on his face. A branch smacks him in the chest, and he wheezes to catch the breath that had been knocked out of his lungs.

“William!” He calls again, scrambling again after the irate man, the title pressing at the tip of his tongue urging him to call after the blond before him. William has never outpaced him before, but then again, William hasn’t ever hated him before either. Frustration wells up in Erasmus to fill in the empty cavern his chest has become, the heart he’s always been careful not to have in the first place carved out. 

He catches up, just barely, and snags the sleeve of William’s coat, gripping tightly. If he lets go, he’ll never see the man again. William hasn’t said that, not in so many words, but Erasmus knows it in his bones to be true. 

“Pr– William, Will. _Please_.” And oh, that traitorous heart he thought had at least been sliced out and dropped on the road some ways back, it clenches in time with the narrowing of William’s eyes and his sharply downturned frown, squeezing whatever blackened lump he houses his soul in. 

“Please _what_?” William snaps sharply.

“Please, just, just stay. I know I don’t–”

“Don’t what?” William interrupts hotly, jerking his head to look away from Erasmus, eyes burning with tears he doesn’t allow to fall over his cheeks. “Don’t leave? Don’t be stupid, I can’t _leave_ , I don’t have anything to go _back_ to, Erasmus!” His rage-trembling voice grew into a shout, strong and wrathful, and Erasmus thought in the back of his mind if this is what it felt like to be pierced by holy lances wielded by angels. Stinging and deserved. William jerks his sleeve free of Erasmus’ weakening grip.

The taller man slumps, the weight of defeat heavy on his shoulders. That was fine, he deserved it. He got William caught, or something like it. But maybe caught would have been better, at least then William would have died still clinging to the life he built for himself. They are back in Neath, where William had grown up in, the town that knew him and held his records. The only place outside Inquisition headquarters that could truly sanction the man.

“I’m sorry.” Erasmus whispers, his voice cracking and head drooping to his chest in remorse. His heart cracks so loudly it echoes in the stillness beneath the apple trees, he jumps. 

It was only William stepping on a twig. Oh.

“You’re sorry?” William asks, voice low and deadly in a way Erasmus has never heard before, and it incites a fear in his gut. Not the kind of fear that came with running or a fight, but the kind of fear that came with being cast out, of falling into unforgivable disgrace. “No, you’re not sorry, Eras–” William cut himself off from saying Erasmus’ name, looking like he bit his own tongue to do so. 

“I am, William. Please, I didn’t mean–” Erasmus dares to step forward, feeling like a despised dog who desired nothing more than to be extended a soft hand again, but knowing it wouldn’t.

William’s hands shoot forward and he curls them into fists in the dark green of the crosshatch of Erasmus’ tunic and pushes him back against a tree. Erasmus lets it happen, there’s no fight left in him, not where William is concerned, not for this. 

Wildly, William thinks to himself that Erasmus must have been a demon sent to tempt him. Make him stray from the path of righteousness and turn his face from his teachings. It had been so happy too, and that’s the worst of it. William’s eyes are filled with angry, frustrated tears and he knows his face betrays everything he’s thinking. And for once, he doesn’t think he cares, for once he’s angry and will rage as he pleases. 

His entire life, even against the behest of his father and having to leave his family to pursue it, he knew priesthood was in his bones. He knew this was the path he was _meant_ to follow. And now he’s lost it all. Because of Erasmus. He’s fallen from grace so irreparably that he’s been cast out. _Excommunicated_. There’s nothing to stop him from yanking down forcefully on Erasmus’ tunic and into a kiss.

It’s nothing like any of their other kisses, this one is hard and their teeth knock together and Erasmus sighs a groan in pain and still doesn’t fight. His hands remain by his sides even as William bites his lip until it bleeds and prods at it with his tongue and the kiss turns into little more than an excuse to hurt him. William isn’t sure if it incenses him more that Erasmus isn’t going to fight back and just stands there, letting William hurt him like he thinks William’s rage is just, or that Erasmus isn’t as filled with rage as he is. 

“I hate you,” William growls through his teeth before pulling Erasmus back in for another punishment of a kiss. It tastes like the apple Erasmus had eaten, sour and sharp.

Erasmus lets him. It feels like penance for a crime he didn’t commit, but one he would happily take as long as it let the other man roam free. 

#####  **Drunk Kiss**

They’re drunk. They’re drunk and it’s a delight. William and Erasmus huddle together with wry smiles on their faces at the base of a broad willow tree overlooking a serene lake on the outskirts of Neath. Further out than anyone would likely dare to come this late at night. They stoke no fires and, instead, watch the stars as they ripple in reflection over a lake nearly still as glass unless one paid close mind to it.

And pay close mind Erasmus does, to all the things around them except for how William looks. To how William looks at _him_ especially. He went too fast, pushed too hard, and no matter what William of Neath, an ex-priest, had thought he wanted Erasmus ought to have known better. William didn’t want any sort of public affection as was made perfectly clear since they’ve been to Neath, and that was fine. He barely wants to be affectionate in front of Julia and, the thought shoots something cold through Erasmus’ veins, perhaps he doesn’t want anything affectionate at all. 

“Erasmus?” William spoke softly, breaking the conman out of a spiraling panic that hasn’t quite solidified in his gut yet.

“Yes?” Erasmus’ reply was barely more than a cracked whisper.

“I–” William falters, searching for words that might put things to right again, but after being so deliberately cruel he isn’t sure they can be. “I didn’t mean it. What I said.” It wasn’t an apology, he doesn’t know if he can muster one up properly at the moment, even if Erasmus certainly deserves one. Perhaps he really isn’t cut out for the cloth, as it were, if he can’t manage a thing like penitence. 

“It’s alright.” Erasmus replies with a sigh. It isn’t, but what else was there to say? He takes another swig of the sweet cider and piss-poor whiskey mixture they had scrounged up from the local alehouse not even an hour ago. The whiskey might not be _good_ (that’s what the cider was for, what with all these apple orchards encircling Neath) but it is strong enough to donkey kick a man in the face. And that’s exactly what Erasmus was looking for at the moment. William too, if he is being honest with himself, which he rarely is.

“It’s _not_ , though.” William’s words slur only a little and he shifts beside Erasmus, the thin sliver of air between them is smothered and Erasmus’ side lights up with a fire he doesn’t want to think about. It hurts to think about, and he doesn’t know if that fire will burn or warm him, though he desperately wants to find out. 

William turns to face Erasmus fully, his chest presses the heat of his body against Erasmus’ arm and the taller man chances a look up, only to quickly avert his eyes with a gasp after meeting William’s gaze. There’s too much in it, too many storms and thoughts and too much of something that feels significant but that Erasmus can’t put his finger on. Before today he might have foolishly called it love and felt his own well up in the cavity of a chest he thought he might house a heart in. But that was before.

“Erasmus, I _am_ sorry for– well, I was deliberately cruel to you. I worry you won’t want me near you, and truly that wouldn’t be uncalled for–” William cuts himself off and Erasmus feels the man’s shoulders slump even without looking. 

“I think you would be surprised at what you could do, prie– William. And I’d still come crawling back begging for your attention.” Erasmus murmured lowly, eyes downcast and head tilting to the side to keep his gaze off the man. The unfairly beautiful, angel of a man who deigns time and time again to sit beside this poor sinner. His mouth still tastes like apples, bitter and rotten from the cider and whiskey. William startles at his words from over a year ago, he wasn’t expecting it to be parroted back to him, especially like this. 

He doesn’t say anything, and neither does Erasmus, for some time. Acclimating to the things said and not said aloud. Erasmus brings the quarter-empty jug to his mouth and takes another pull, resolutely ignoring the way William looks at him and how his throat burns from the intensity of his scrutiny. 

Silently he offers the drink to William, who has never before been someone to turn down a decent drink, and that isn’t about to change now. Without any whisper of voice on the too-still breeze, William takes it, fingers caressing Erasmus’ over the handle of the jug as if he were gifting him something precious. In that moment, it feels suddenly like Erasmus has handed his heart over, and he can’t be entirely sure he hasn't. He’s always been a fool, especially when feelings were involved like this, it’s why he usually prefers not to have them at all–the Lord only knows most people thought pulling anything like that from the career conman was like wrenching blood from a stone–but these people, Julia and Joshua and William in equal and separate measures made his calcification of a heart bleed like none other.

This time, it is Erasmus’ turn to look and drink in his fill of William’s visage as the man takes a long pull of the drink, swallowing loudly. The movement of his Adam’s apple is tantalizing and the soft glow of his skin and hair in the moonlight filtered through boughs and leaves makes Erasmus feel like he’s watching an angel debauch himself. It’s both uncomfortable and wonderfully tempting. But he does nothing, he still his hands and buries them in fists in the breeches bunched around his hips, hidden by the darkness beneath the weeping willow.

William sighs in contentment at his hometown's alcohol (the taste of home always welcome, even if he himself isn’t anymore) and pulls an apple from his coat, perfectly shining in the pale moonlight and rosy as cherubim cheeks. The sigh hits Erasmus in the heart and he jerks to look up at William, no longer caring about sullying the man with his eyes, with the look in them too soft by half. William pays him no mind, perhaps it’s a blessing, perhaps not. Either way, Erasmus watches as the ex-priest turns the apple over in his hands, situating it so the stem is between the heels of his hands and his fingertips can press into the bottom of it. William breathes in slowly and, as if he’d been made to do it, rips the apple in half with a crack as loud as thunder, or perhaps a twig Erasmus thought was his heart. 

He is offered one of the halves and so he takes it, happy to be offered anything at all by William. Happy to take anything at all if it were given from those soft hands. Without saying anything else, William bites into his own half and steals the jug of cider-and-whiskey, leaning over Erasmus’s body to reach it. Erasmus quickly takes a bite of his own, the crunch of it loud enough to cover the aborted gasp wrenched from him at the heat of William’s body across his own. 

They sit and drink the rest of the drink until only the unfiltered dregs of the pressed cider remain to coat their tongues and the inside of the stoneware jug. They stubbornly do not think about drinking from the same vessel lips, about the fact their mouths press over the ghosts of each other’s touch and yet do not meet one another for sweet cider kisses. They don’t think about it at all until they’re well and truly sozzled from cheap and too-strong whiskey-and-cider and they stop lying to themselves.

“Erasmus?” William asks, timidly almost.

“Yes?” Erasmus looks over in askance, eyes half-lidded and blurry with contentment, even if it’s fake he’ll take whatever he can get, and right now that’s William pressed up along his side. Even if he wishes he was brave enough to move his arm from between them and drape it over the man’s shoulders. 

“I don’t hate you. I hope you know that.” William murmurs, the weight of him dragging Erasmus forward, the soft hand that had so cleanly broken open an apple gentle on Erasmus’ shoulder where it met the curve of his neck.

“Yeah, I know.” Erasmus breathes, not daring to speak any louder, not with how close their faces are.

“Good.” And then William kisses him and finally, _finally,_ it doesn’t feel like Erasmus has something to atone for. This time the kiss is soft and feels like a refreshing balm over his heart and a fire-warm blanket wrapped around his soul. This is the kiss that feels like forgiveness and an apology all in one. It tastes like apples, sweet and crisp and like every good summer memory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks as always to ChateauxWithChattox for betaing!


	4. Episode 4: Scriver’s Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sixth kiss (well, there's quite a few but I thought they all deserved to be piled together) is of palpable UST.

“Practice, hm?” Avery grins through the kiss, already pulling his own jacket off his shoulders before sucking in a sharp breath as Anthony crowds him back against the wall of the flat, trapping his arms at his side with the jacket pinned behind his back and halfway down his shoulders. 

“You know me,” Anthony replies, peppering Avery’s jaw and neck with hot, open-mouthed kisses that turn the blond’s breath ragged, “Always suffering for my art.” Avery could feel the wicked smile against his skin and a sharp nip just above his collar pulls a yelp from him.

“Oh yes, truly,” Another gasp as Anthony unbuckles his belt, “Suffering you are.” A wiry-strong forearm presses just under his sternum in a way that keeps him pressed against the wall, at least as an indication of desire rather than truly trapping him, even as Anthony descends to his knees in a graceful fall and mouths at the waistband of his trousers.

“Anthony!” Avery shouts, head falling back against the wall with a dull thump as Anthony does quite a few wicked things with his tongue.

* * *

**Unresolved Sexual Tension Kiss(es)**

The door clicks shut and the air between the two of them thickens. It feels like molasses, soft and slow-moving and impossible to breathe through. William's breath catches in his throat as Erasmus turns and their eyes meet. The conman's eyes have lightened with overuse of the night vision amulet from a dark brown to amber so bright they seem almost golden in the flickering candlelight in the sconce by the door. Though he knows it isn't the case, William can't help but think the candle burns brighter when Erasmus looks at him so hungrily, heating the room to unbearable temperatures and, for once, William is so fucking glad he doesn't have his heavy priest vestments anymore. 

Erasmus steps closer and it feels like he's prowling. A jolt of desire runs down William's spine and settles in his gut, and he thinks he'd be more than fine if he were Erasmus’ prey, as long as he kept watching him like a meal he'd like to devour. 

"Neath," Erasmus breathes, stepping close into William's space and brings a hand up to trace along his jaw lightly, too light. The touch raises gooseflesh up William's shoulders and arms, pinpricks of oversensitivity sharp and pointed, pulling a shudder and a small, pathetic sound from his throat. 

He takes a half step back, more out of habit than anything. And Erasmus follows, just as dutifully and attentively as he always has. One step, another, five steps, and they're all the way across the room just beside the bed. William's back is flush against the wall and the wood paneling is icy cold to his heated flesh even through layers of clothing. He shivers again, and Erasmus lowers his mouth to the ex-priest's neck right where it met his shoulder, delicately pulling the collar of his tunic out of the way so that it was free for him to do as he liked. 

“‘Ras–” William’s plea is cut off with a low, half bitten-off moan into Erasmus’ ear. He feels weak from the taller man’s hot breath on his neck and teeth sharp on his skin. It was the first time in, oh, years likely, they had gotten a separate room or that one was even available in the first place. They are safe here, they are hidden and though they will have to leave in the morning, for the first time in what feels like forever they can _rest_ and sleep easily. Joshua is sleeping in a small room nearby and Julia is at her Aunt’s, or something else to do with a prophecy. 

So instead of sleeping, they’re on each other, touching and grasping at anything and everything as long as it’s each other. “Priest,” the conman rumbles in reply, his voice deep and husky with unrestrained arousal. William attempts to speak but a hot puff of air leaps from his lips like all of it had been stolen from his lungs by the man in front of him and his wiles. From his lungs into Erasmus’, and William isn’t sure this isn’t the very meaning of mingling like spirits in the air, where two become one.

Erasmus’ mouth is on his within seconds, swallowing a moan, or perhaps it’s William who swallows Erasmus’ noises when their lips part to allow tongue into the mix. There is a searing heat that lights him up beneath his skin, leaving trails of molten rock in the wake of Erasmus’ fingers as he slips them underneath William’s tunic. It’s exhilarating in a way that William almost feels guilty for, the much easier access without the length and extra layer of the cassock impeding them any longer, defrocked as he is. William’s tunic is rucked up over his hips and Erasmus’ hands are like brands of fire heating his blood until he feels like he might drip out of his skin like wax from the crevices of a tankard left too long and too close to the fire.

“Ras– Erasmus, please,” William gasps out, fisting his hands in the taller man’s doublet, halfway untied as it always is and leaving his temptation of a collarbone on display. For once, or twice or however many times it had been so far, William gives into it and nips at the skin on display. He can feel Erasmus leaning into him, pressing him against the wall, even as his head is tilted to the side to give him all the room William could possibly want to keep doing _that_. Prior experience says Erasmus’ eyes would be closed if he feels the urge to check, he doesn’t if only because he’s rather enamored currently of the soft skin beneath his lips.

“William,” Erasmus rumbles, voice hoarse with the desperate attempt to keep himself in check, threatening to break before William’s onslaught, and the very thought of breaking Erasmus’ iron control sends fireblast thrills through William. 

“Erasmus,” William moans, nuzzling his nose just underneath the crook of Erasmus’ jaw, sucking an open-mouthed kiss into the sensitive skin of his neck, “ _Please_.” His plea is a whisper and a temptation all at once, pleased to feel the man harden further through his braies and flush against his hip.

“Fuck, priest,” Erasmus moans, breathy and halfway to shaking apart under William’s hands and in all his life he has never felt more powerful than this, with the man he loves desperate to put hands on him and love him _thoroughly_.

"A bit what I thought we were doing, my beloved," William breathed with a smile, hands moving from Erasmus' chest to deftly unlace the doublet as he kissed his love into the skin of a conman, leaving marks as proof of it. Erasmus bites back the noises he makes in the back of his throat and his hands wander down to play with the waistline of William's braies and letting his fingertips trip over the ties of the modest green hose at William's hips. 

"Well then," Erasmus chokes out, so very obviously affected by how clear William's affection for him is, "Best get on with it, I think."

"For once, Erasmus, I'd like to savor you," William murmured, finally done with the ties in the overly complicated doublet in a handsome forest green and happily pushes the layers up to get his hands over Erasmus' chest. "We've finally got a bed and roof, my dearest."

Erasmus looks down with desire hazed eyes to meet William's and they both lean in to meet for a kiss, gentle and sweet, though with their hands on each other it quickly turns heated once more, their breaths hot and panting. 

And then Joshua screams from the other side of the wall. The two of them jump and Erasmus flings himself towards the door, uncaring of his state of dress, William following only a second after. 

The nightmares the boy was having were quickly getting out of hand, William thinks grimly to himself. And, not for the first time, he prays firmly that the well they've heard so much of will help. William and Erasmus do share a bed but with Joshua and Harry the Rabbit between them, the only way Joshua manages to get any sleep these days. 

In the morning they kiss again, devoid of any heat from the night before, but with a solid sort of devotion of a relationship tested by the nighttime interruptions of a small child. William prays again and watches Erasmus with a soft smile as he helps Joshua wash from the basin of lukewarm water and dress for the day. 

Today's the day. They hope.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come find me on Tumblr here!](https://d20owlbear.tumblr.com/)


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